


impatient

by zhuzhubi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Dom Spencer, F/M, Hair-pulling, M/M, Professor Spencer Reid, Rough Sex, Smut, Teasing, Unprotected Sex, brat reader, but not super rough just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhubi/pseuds/zhuzhubi
Summary: professor!spencer is in the middle of teaching a zoom class when reader walks in and starts pulling his attention elsewhere…
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Kudos: 119





	impatient

**Author's Note:**

> also on tumblr at zhuzhubii. afab!reader, gender neutral as long as you're ok with 'clit' and knee-high socks

Being able to watch Spencer teach is the silver lining of quarantine. It’s not like you’ve never watched him teach before, because you definitely have - you used to sit in on his classes every so often when they were still in person, but you always took care to find a spot in the back of the lecture hall so that his actual students could sit up close if they needed to. You don’t have to worry about that with online classes - you can curl up on the couch and observe him from only a few feet away, and watching him excitedly lecture about handwriting analysis or geographic profiling or body language from up close is just…well, it’s _magnificent._

You can see his passion for the subject matter with every flick of the wrist and only-slightly-off-topic ramble. He answers every question with care and attention - his office hours almost always run long because he never wants any of his students to walk away unsure about the material. It’s adorable when he fumbles with Zoom, furrowing his brow and biting his lip as he tries to figure out how to pull up the chat or unmute himself or share his screen. 

It’s damn-near impossible to get anything done while he’s teaching - you try your best, you really do, but you always find yourself getting distracted by the sound of his voice or the way he talks with his hands as he lectures. And that’s how you end up leaning on the kitchen counter and spying on him from across the room, ignoring the work you really should be doing in favor of watching Spencer talk about the applications of linguistics to criminal profiling. 

He runs a hand along his stubbly jaw and it sends a thrum of heat running through you - you can practically feel your pupils dilate as the warmth collects in your belly, alighting that familiar desire. You want him to touch you right here and how, to feel his skin hot against yours as you reach for his belt, as he dips his long fingers below your waistband, pulling you flush up against him and -

An idea hits you all of the sudden and you suck in an excited breath at the thought - Spencer’s due to be teased a little anyway, and there’s no way he’ll be able to resist what you have in mind.

…

There are twenty-three minutes left of Spencer’s lecture when he sees you saunter into the room out of the corner of his eye. He can’t help but to glance up at you as he continues to talk, intending to give you a smile as you pass by his desk. His voice catches in his throat instead, his jaw dropping a little as a blush creeps up his cheeks. He can hardly form a coherent thought as his eyes trail over every inch of you without him even telling them to - his mouth feels dry all of the sudden and he licks his lips as he peers up at you from his desk, completely forgetting about the class full of students on the other side of his screen.

You’re dressed only in his favorite purple shirt and a pair of mismatched knee-high socks. In your hands you hold a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top - you raise it to your mouth and lock eyes with him as you take a sip, feeling the cream stick to your lips and leaving it there with feigned innocence. He sucks in a shaky breath and shifts in his seat, his pupils blown wide as he watches your tongue glide over the cream - you smirk down at him and tilt your head to the side, trailing a hand up your stomach and letting it pull up the fabric as you blow him a kiss and keep walking.

His eyes follow you as you make your way over to the couch and sit down on the armrest closest to him, peering at him over the rim of your mug and teasingly lapping at the cream. His pants are uncomfortably tight already and his thoughts are filled with one thing and one thing only - he’s just about to push himself out of his chair and follow you when -

“Dr. Reid?” a voice says through his laptop speakers, “Is something wrong? You just…stopped talking all of the sudden…”

Spencer jolts back to his senses, tearing his eyes away from you as he tries to collect himself. “Yeah, um - No, nothing’s wrong, I’m fine it was just…,” he trails off as he tries to think of a believable excuse, fighting the instinct to look back over at you as his brain continues to short-circuit, “A-Anyway, um…w-we were discussing the use of pronouns in notes left for law enforcement and/or the media, how the use of the collective ‘we’ instead of the singular ‘I’ typically indicates one of a few different things…”

He can’t help but look at the clock as he tries to keep lecturing - seventeen minutes left of class, seventeen minutes left before he can drag you to the bedroom and wipe that self-satisfied little smirk off your face. Seventeen minutes left before he can feel your body beneath his, before he can get a hand up your shirt ( _my shirt_ , Spencer thinks) and kick his pants off and -

_Oh fuck_ , Spencer thinks as he tries his best to keep his lecture coherent, stumbling over his words as his gaze drift over to where you’re poised on the armrest of the couch, batting your eyes at him as you dip a finger into the whipped cream and pop it into your mouth, letting your eyes drift up and down his body as you swirl your tongue over the cream, mimicking the way he likes it on his -

Spencer snaps his head back over to his desk, his mind running through possibilities at lightning speed, spurred on by his sudden realization that _now, I need (y/n) Right Now_. He glances at the clock and sees eleven minutes left, eleven minutes too long before class ends. Before he can think better of it, Spencer is stuttering out, “A-actually something’s come up - I have to go. Come to my office hours tomorrow if you have any questions about the material, bye!” and clicking end meeting as fast as he can. He’s slamming his laptop closed perhaps a little more harshly than he meant to, then pushing himself to his feet and nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get to you.

And then he’s kissing you, he’s dragging his nails down your back through the thin fabric of his shirt and tugging you up off of the couch. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls your hips to his in one swift motion, groaning at the sensation of his crotch against yours. You sneak a hand in between you, letting it linger over his navel for a moment before pushing lower and cupping him through his pants - he gasps into your mouth and it makes your smirk.

“So impatient, Dr. Reid,” you tease, thumbing over the head of his cock through the fabric, “You couldn’t wait _ten minutes_ to have me.”

He positively growls at the words, threading a hand through your hair and pulling, dipping his head to nip at your jawline as he walks you backwards towards the bedroom. “You’re the one who’s impatient, (y/n),” he says, his voice low with desire and his breath hot against your cheeks.

“You have the _audacity_ to walk in while I’m teaching dressed like _this_ ,” he shoves you back against the bedroom door and he quickly undoes the buttons of your shirt, “Wearing my shirt and licking away whipped cream, and then think you can call _me_ impatient?”

You just look up at him with a coy little smirk, running your tongue over your bottom lip and letting your hand trail up to cup his cheek as you whisper, “What’re you gonna do about it, Doctor?”

And then he slams you back into the door again, fumbling to get it open as he kisses your neck and bucks his hips against you. He pulls you into the bedroom as soon as the door clicks open and practically throws you onto the bed, following after as quickly as he can, shedding his cardigan along the way. 

He runs his hands up and down your legs, palming over your knee-highs with a pleased moan. “You put these on just for me, brat?” he growls, “You were trying to get me all worked up so I’d come in here and fuck you, huh?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” you smirk, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him closer, “I got Exactly. What. I. Wanted.”

He snarls and presses his lips into yours, climbing upwards on the bed until he’s directly on top of you and bracing himself with his forearms. You thread one hand through his hair and use the other to go for his belt, undoing the latch with practiced ease and petting over his cock through underwear, chucking when you feel how damp it is from his pre-cum. “Excited, are you?” you taunt, “I saw you fidgeting at your desk, you know. You get hard just from looking at me -”

He shoves a finger into you without warning - you gasp as he curls it just so, thumbing over your clit as you shudder beneath him. He leans in as close as he possibly can, adding a second finger as his lips ghost against your ear and he whispers, “I could say the same about you. So don’t get cocky, brat.”

Spencer keeps at it for a moment, panting against your neck and drinking in your whimpers as you writhe under his hands. He pulls back all of the sudden and you can’t hold back your whine as you chase after him, stretching out your arms as you search for his warmth. “Shhhh,” he shushes against the rustling of fabric, “Be patient, I’m coming back.”

And then he reappears by your side, his chest bare against yours and his cock hot and heavy against your belly. He takes it in his hand and strokes over himself a few times, his breath coming out in shaky gasps as his eyes flutter closed for a moment. You shift beneath him, pupils blown wide at the sight of him pleasuring himself, his face flushed and blissed out to match your own. The movement startles him out of it and he’s kissing you again, scooting back just enough so that he can trail the head of his cock up and down between your clit and your opening, smirking when he hears you whimper at the sensation.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, the words escaping almost involuntarily and so soft you can barely even hear them yourself. 

“What was that, brat?” Spencer replies with a smirk clear in his voice, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to…,” you start before trailing off, suddenly shy now that he’s making you say it. 

He growls and grabs you by the hair, pulling at the strands as he presses his lips to your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin as he snaps, “Say it, brat, or I swear to god I’ll get up and leave you here and you’ll have to listen as I get myself off in the shower, got it?”

You nod your head and he tightens his grip on your hair in response, a low sound rumbling deep in his chest as he leans in and whispers, “Say it now.”

“I want you to fuck me!” you shout, curling your hands around the back of his head and trying to pull him impossibly closer, whining as you feel only the tip of him against your entrance and wrapping your legs around his as you try to entice him to push inside. 

Spencer chuckles and holds strong for a moment more, soaking in your desire and the needy expression in your eyes. And then he gives in, pushing his hips forward and gasping as his cock slips inside of you, barely pausing for half a second before letting himself thrust into the heat of your core.

The bed frame creaks as he rocks into you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and pressing wet kisses into the soft skin as both of your mouths fall open with pleasure. He slips a hand between your bodies and circles a finger over your clit, matching the pace to that of his thrusts and the soft _ah ah ah!_ escaping from your lips. 

You scratch your nails over the bare skin of his back, leaving your own mark there as he sucks on your neck, his own gasps and moans blending with your own as the tip of his cock hits _that spot_ inside of you over and over again. He starts groaning, “You’re so good, (y/n), so good for me, _oh fuck!_ ” as he chases his high, his movements growing frantic as the tension builds in his belly, the feeling of your body hot beneath his own bringing him closer and closer and closer.

And then he’s gasping _oh oh oh!_ and you feel his release hot inside of you - he bites down on your shoulder as he cums and it sends you over the edge, that tingling heat shuddering through you as his cock twitches inside of you and he rocks you both through the aftershocks. 

He keeps at it until the sensation is too much, then gently eases himself back out and flops down on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush up against him, humming contentedly as you nestle into his side. He presses his lips to your forehead and brushes his hands over your cheeks, tucking your legs together and enjoying the feeling of your bare skin against his as he soaks in the post-orgasm high.

“Mmm,” he mumbles as he traces patterns over you back, “That was nice. I hope my students don’t ask me what happened.”

You snort out a laugh at that, “You know that they’re definitely going to.”

“I know,” he pouts, “But I have until tomorrow to think of a response. Unless you plan on keeping me occupied until then…”

“We’ll see, we’ll see…,” you reply, chuckling as you stretch your head up to ask for a kiss.

He complies, pressing his lips to yours once more, soft and chaste this time. He smiles into you and reaches down to pull up the covers intertwining his fingers with yours. “Whipped cream?” he asks with a grin, raising his eyebrows as he peers down at you with amusement in his eyes.

You reach up to playfully slap his arm, “Well it worked, didn’t it? And you definitely weren’t complaining, so…”

He rolls his eyes, biting back his smile as he mutters, “Whipped cream…,” one last time before letting his eyes flutter closed and nestling into the pillows. You trace a finger over his blissed out face and then let your own eyes flutter closed, quickly drifting off after him.


End file.
